The Indigo King - James A. Owen [31]
“Spells, curses,” Uncas murmured, chewing absently on the coin, “also see: Bindings, counterspells, blood-oaths, and … ah, yes, here we go. It’s under the section on blood. You know, it be a fascinatin’ thing … I never would have made th’ connection to lycanthropy, but …”
Uncas blinked, then looked at the coin. “Well, pluck my feathers,” he said. “Silver’s good for lots o’ stuff.”
He repeated the process Fred had performed earlier, grinding the coin to a fine powder. Then, apologizing for the presumption, he sliced five shards of wood from the ash staff, moistened them with his tongue, then rolled them in the silver dust.
“Let’s try this with you first, Fred,” he said to his son. “If it works, y’ can help with th’ others.”
Uncas closed his eyes and murmured a badger’s prayer under his breath, then plunged the ash and silver dart into Fred’s forearm.
It worked.
“Ow!” Fred yelped, rubbing at his arm. “Good show! The Royal Animal Rescue Squad, trained an’ true!”
The remedy worked equally well on the men. “Sort of a reverse Balder, eh, Jack?” John asked, examining the dart. But Jack wasn’t listening. The second he was freed, he had Chaz pinned to the wall.
“Why did you do it, Chaz?” Jack shouted, livid. “Was it really worth selling out your friends for a few lights?”
“You in’t my friends!” Chaz howled in reply. “Besides, he froze me the same as you!”
“No time! There’s no time for this!” Bert exclaimed. “Mordred’s minions are everywhere, and the news we’ve escaped may reach him any moment—and then we’ll all be lost!”
“Where can we go that he won’t find us?” John said. “We have nothing to fight him with—not even his true name.”
“Yes, you do have something,” said Bert. “You have the prophecy. And you have this.” He took the rolled parchment from the mantel. “This is what Jules was given when he opened the Serendipity Box. It was then that he said I must give him to Mordred, and then wait for you. He died so that you could have this chance.”
“Well, let’s have a look at it,” Jack began.
“No time, no time,” Bert said. “Just know this: It’s a map, to the last island in the Archipelago. The only map left, which has been hidden from Mordred all these years. The only one that was made by the Cartographer, but by covenant, never bound into the Geographica.”
Hearing this, Uncas and Fred exchanged questioning glances, but said nothing.
“Here,” Bert said, stuffing the parchment, the box, and Jules Verne’s skull into a bag. “Take these, and let’s get you on your way.”
“How does y’ plan t’ do that?” said Chaz.
For the first time, John and Jack saw the old familiar glitter in Bert’s eyes. “Easy,” he said as he opened the back door. “I’m going to use what the Serendipity Box gave to me.”
The old man hobbled his way out to the far end of the dock. Looking westward, the companions could see nothing but dust. It was, in all ways, a desert.
“Are we going to walk to this island?” Jack asked. “I’ve already got a blister going.”
“Shush,” said John. “I think Bert’s got better than that in mind.”
“Oh yes.” Bert nodded. “I do have something good up my, er, sleeve, as it were.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a brooch. It was an Egyptian scarab beetle, set in a bronze fitting, and the shell of the beetle was translucent blue. It also seemed to be in motion. Bert turned it over. “Recognize the writings, John?”
“Egyptian, obviously, and …” He peered closer. “Is that Hebrew and …” John’s eyes grew wide. “Is this what I think it is?”
Bert nodded. “From Aaron’s hand to mine. His brother didn’t part anything. The Red Sea was taken up, whole, and put away for safekeeping. And since the Good Lord saw fit to give it to me, I’m sure he won’t mind that I’ve moved it a few thousand miles west.”
Bert drew back his arm, and with surprising strength hurled the brooch high into the sky.
It arced high, higher, then plunged downward, hitting the ground some hundred yards away.
“Now what?” asked Chaz.
Suddenly the earth underneath the brooch fissured and split, and